


Where We Go

by NancyBrown



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Infidelity, M/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 05:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyBrown/pseuds/NancyBrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both love Anakin. This would hurt him if he knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where We Go

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn battle 14, prompt(s):
> 
> Obi-Wan/Padmé Amidala, cloak, secrets, hidden, taste

No one can know.

She is a respected diplomat, former Queen and now Senator of Naboo. He's a Jedi Knight, sworn to uphold the Republic, to use the Force in righteousness, and not to dally. If they are discovered, it will bring shame to both. If they are discovered by Anakin, who knows what he'll do. Padmé loves Anakin as much as she dares, knowing by now how dangerous he's become. She watches the darkness inside him, and she thinks, hopes, prays, that she will be enough to hold him from the precipice. Ben loves him just as much, and in the same worried fashion. They don't want to hurt him, and they don't want him hurting anyone else.

But this hidden pleasure the two of them have eked out, this is theirs. When he spreads out his cloak in an abandoned corridor, it serves them as a finer bed than her apartments, or even the bed she used as Queen. He tastes her skin, beard prickling the soft flesh of her breasts, of her navel, of her pubis, and it's all Padmé can do to bite back her joy. This man knows her, would love her entirely and without reservation had they both not greater duties. His lips suckle at her tender pink nub, the place she presses nightly, awake and wanting after Anakin has taken his pleasure and rolled over to sleep. She dares not call her lover by his given name, nor by his true name, not where someone can hear. Instead she writes the words of her love against his cheeks, into his scalp, and draws his face to her, rolling atop him and taking him inside her effortlessly.

Ben is more reckless than she, moaning a prayerful "Amidala," into the skin of her neck. She rides him fiercely, quickly, pushing against him for her own enjoyment and knowing he is drinking her down in kisses, thrusting hard. She burns through her climax, and heads straight for another without pausing.

With a startled moan, he withdraws, spilling to the thirsty fabric of his cloak rather than within her. Padmé bites back her unhappiness, understanding his reasons. She dreams of days spent with this man, together under a hot sun instead of furtive couplings in shadows, but it's as forbidden as her marriage, and far more irresponsible to imagine.

She smooths the hair from his face, doesn't tell him she loves him.

Someday.


End file.
